Symbolism on the Center Stage
by Aerial1
Summary: When Mugen, Jin, and Fuu find work at a traditional theater, they soon realize that sometimes there is more drama offstage than out in front of the audience..MugenxFuu. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

My first Samurai Champloo fic, so please R & R! Your reviews will let me no whether or not I should continue. And this is just a prologue of sorts, so forgive it's shortness.

**Symbolism on the Center Stage**

"The Kyogen Theater!" Fuu said with a flourish as she swept her hand upward and towards the sky,"We'll be able to find work here for sure!"

Her two companions deflated simultaneously, deep frowns following suit.

"You must be kidding." Jin's left eyebrow twitched.

He stared upward, clearly unimpressed with the scenery before him.

It was a large, elaborate building. Atleast two story, with too many steps, a red roof, and one gigantic set of wooden doors.

Both were thrown open wide in provocation, just daring the curious to venture within.

Theater, _indeed_.

"There is not a chance in _hell_." Mugen ground out, eyes closed, all patience gone.

"Why not?" Fuu, unlike her counterparts, was absolutely beaming, proud of herself and feeling more than a little bit pleased about her discovery.

She'd dragged them halfway through the town, up roads and down alleyways, just to get to this stupid place she'd heard about, proclaiming the whole way that it was perfect, just perfect for them and that when they saw it, they, too, would agree.

However, that had yet to be the case.

"This is our big chance to make some _real_ money!" She accentuated at the end, shooting them both a pointed look before making her way up the steps, two at a time.

"My ass!" Mugen spat, scratching his neck and eyeing the building in front of them with contempt, though he followed suit.

Jin nodded his head in regard to the statement, and lagged behind momentarily, staring at the building in calculation before he sauntered on, close behind.

"Money's not the only thing we get, ya know." Fuu said slyly with a grunt, her back to them as she continued upward,"I heard that if we participate, not only do we get paid every week, but also we get free meals, _and_ a place to sleep." She smirked.

Like Mugen or Jin could/would refuse that.

It was just too good of an offer, especially for them.

"Free, you say?" Jin slowed, suspicious of this.

"That's right. _Free._" Fuu hopped up the last step, standing before the entrance.

"Says who?" Mugen scoffed, disbelieving.

"I believe, I do." A young woman said kindly as she appeared in the entrance-way, a delicate and warm smile on her face as she greeted them.

The woman was absolutely beautiful with long, raven hair and pale skin that matched well with her intricately designed kimono of royal blue. A comb was tucked neatly behind her ear, white in color with matching royal blue flowers clustered around the handle.

"And..And you are?" Fuu had to admit, this woman was quite a sight.

And by the looks of it--Mugen's glazed expression, Jin staring downward over the top of his glasses--she wasn't the only one who thought so.

The woman laughed lightly, a hand covering her mouth,"Please forgive me, my name is Aomori Yukio." She bowed politely. "Won't you come in? I'm sure you're here because of the theater positions, correct?"

"You got that right, lady." Mugen was the one who answered, suprisingly, causing Fuu to do a double-take and altogether gape like a fish out of water."So, let's get down to business." He said, taking big strides as he followed the woman inside the theater, head held high all the way.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Fuu said, astonished and offended, as she ran after him.

Jin simply shook his head, sighing, before joining them inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone! They really encourage me to continue writing, so please keep it up!

**Symbolism on the Center Stage**

If Mugen, Fuu, and Jin thought the outside of the theater was impressive, they certaintly weren't dissapointed when they saw the inside. Wide, with high ceilings and beautiful decorations that spanned the walls, the Kyogen theater looked every bit like a theater should have. There was a multitude of seats--atleast enough to house a good four or five hundred--and high at the back of the room, sat the stage, beige in color, with a backdrop of shoji screens painted with foliage and sakura.

"So, this is it, huh?" Mugen's voice echoed.

"It's _huge!_" Fuu blurted out, eyes popping.

Jin nodded.

"Yes. The Kyogen Theater is one of the largest traditional venues of this area." Aomori told them, smiling, as she continued to walk through the room, heading far back to a door just left of the stage,"Please, this way. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Behind her, Mugen smirked to himself, watching as the woman swayed slightly in her movements.

"Don't have to tell me twice." was all he muttered with a whistle before following.

"Give me a break.." Fuu sighed loudly in agitation, having heard this.

Not ten minutes before, he was spouting complaints about how there was no way he'd do something like this blah, blah, blah, but as soon as a woman--tall, pale, beatiful, and..ok,_ blessed_ with assets--came into the picture, his opinion did an about face and changed completely, almost as if he'd never had a problem with it at all.

Typical.

But Fuu guessed it wasn't an entirely bad thing--no matter how annoying. It atleast meant that Mugen was sold on the idea, and that he didn't need convincing. That made it a whole lot easier.

One down, one to go, so to speak.

"Who is it that we're meeting?" Jin asked, eyes trained on his surroundings as they passed through a door and left the theater, coming suprisingly outside where there was a long wooden walkway that stretched on and on, fountains and gardens visible on either side.

"My grandmother,.." Aomori said softly."The owner of this theater."

They continued up the walkway until they came to two buildings, side by side. One had two doors, the other, only one.

Aomori stopped in front of the single-door building, knocked, and waited patiently before she slid it open and stepped inside, Mugen, Jin, and Fuu following.

It was an office. A cramped, littered with books and papers, office. There was a table in the center, covered with writing instruments, more books, and three or four cups--tea it looked like. Someone sat behind the table, their back to them as they dug absentmindedly through a bag, muttering and cursing.

"Where the hell did I put it? I know it's in here somewhere. I just _know it_!" It rattled on, sounding raspy and indistinct in gender, accompanied by the sound of crinkling and jingling.

"Wajima-san?" Aomori began politely, her hands clasped together lightly as she called out to the individual.

"The damn thing _has_ to be in here." Dig, dig, jangle, grunt.

"..Wajima-san." Aomori spoke louder this time, clearing her throat.

Behind her, Mugen and Fuu raised their eyebrows, swapping a glance, while Jin narrowed his eyes slightly, arms crossed. They all were thinking the same thing.

What the hell was she looking for?

"Ah! _There_ it is!" A small chuckle of delight, followed by a fit of coughs. Then, jangle, jangle, pause."..Confound it all _to hell!_"

Apparently, there it wasn't.

Aomori covered her face with her hands, and the three behind her could have sworn she growled low in her throat before giving it one last shot, louder than ever before and definitely with aggrivation.

"Wajima-_san_!" It had volume, plenty of it.

But this Wajima-san was either deaf or too caught up in their searching for whatever the heck it was to pay even the slightest bit of attention.

A snort.

"Ok, enough of this shit." Mugen spat, fed up with this idiot and hardly having enough patience to withstand it any longer.

"You, digging in the purse-thing. Shut the hell up and turn around, there are people in the room." He'd said it loud, way loud, almost a yell, the _touching_ sentiments striking a chord in the individual as they jumped slightly, shoulders popping.

Well, that had done the trick.

Slowly, very slowly, Wajima-san turned around to the group, bones cracking and breath wheezing.

And the entire group, with exception of Aomori, who was smiling happily, suddenly wished that she hadn't.

It was like looking at a pumpkin, and Fuu had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

Wajima-san was _round_ and short and her face was all but hidden by a massive array of bulges and wrinkles as if it was permanently scrunched in distaste. Eyes peeked out from underneath a set of half-moon lenses and her thin line-of-a-mouth was set into a scowl. Atop her head, a stark-white tuft of hair was messily assembled into a bun, chopsticks poking out. And the clothes were orange.

Bright orange.

"Yeh?" Wajima-san's eyebrows quirked upward.

What a response.

Aomori sighed audibly, clearly thankful,"Wajima-san, these people have come to offer their services to the theater." She swept her hand back in gesture, holding her breath.

One.

Two.

Three seconds of silence.

"Hn." Wajima-san suddenly turned her back on them again, the crunching and crinkling starting up again as she went back to her searching.

Clearly, she'd been unimpressed.

"Wajima-san!" Aomori quickly apologized to the three, turning to face them and waving her hand, before she fixed her grandmother with a slight scowl, though the woman couldn't see it,"They've come to _help_."

"Yeah, lady." Mugen folded his arms across his chest."So quit digging in that damn bag already, or we're gonna leave."

Wajima-san's jangling went on for a few more seconds before she quieted, turning back to them with a pipe and lighter in her hand.

"_Knew_ I'd put it in there somewhere." She lit up, taking a deep breath before blowing out, the smoke clouding around her as she fixed a cool glare at Mugen, Fuu, and Jin.

Who were all gaping at her now.

She went through all that trouble just to get _a smoke?_

Old people..

"So, yeh wish to stay here, do yeh?" she asked behind a veil of smoke as she took another drag.

Mugen was already opening his mouth, but Fuu quickly jumped in.

"_Yes_!" She clapped her hands together,"Please, oh, please, let us stay!" Her face contorted in that usual expression she used when she desperately wanted something.

Wajima-san cackled at the girl's enthusiasm, setting down her pipe on one of the teacups and scowling in thought, "Let me have a look at yeh." She demanded in a crackly voice, hand beckoning for Fuu and her companions to step forward.

They did as told, but not without complaint. Mugen grunted, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, while Jin stood there, finding this woman to be rediculous and wondering if this was all even worth it.

"This is Fuu, Wajima-san." Aomori said, introducing her.

Wajima-san eyed Fuu, looking the girl up and down, tutting here and there, grunting, and narrowing her eyes.

Then she sighed.

"What a twig." Wajima-san shook her head.

A vein popped out of Fuu's forehead,"_Hey_!"

"It's true." Mugen smirked.

"Shut _up,_ you idiot!" She hissed at him, thwonking him on the head and receiving a glare in return.

"Bitch, do you want me to kill you!" Mugen hissed back, hands reaching for his sword.

"_However_, I suppose you'll have to do." Their tirade went unnoticed by the old woman who picked up the pipe again and took a puff before setting it back down, ash falling,"If nothing else, you can be a prop onstage, should your skills prove to be inadequate."

The vein in Fuu's forehead got bigger, and was joined by several others, all throbbing.

And Mugen, the bastard, certaintly wasn't helping with his sniggering and haughty grins.

"T-Thank y-you, very much." She ground out through clenched teeth, struggling, just struggling to keep her temper in check, as she fell back into the line.

Wajima-san then called for Mugen to step forward, eyes narrowing as she noticed his cocky grin.

"You." She called, finger pointing. "What is your title?"

"Mugen." He stretched his arms out and put them behind his head, mouth grinning,"Think you can remember that, old woman?"

Wajima-san seemed to bristle at his words, signaling with her finger for him to come closer.

"Hm?" Mugen crept toward her, bending down until he was two feet in front of her.

A beat of silence passed.

Then out of nowhere the woman clunked Mugen on the head with her pipe, the contents spilling over his hair and face, the locks burning and smoke rising.

He shot up in a instant, grabbing his head and patting it furiously, eyes wide.

"The _hell_!" boomed in the room and now it was Fuu's turn to be laughing.

Wajima-san's eyes were venemous as she shook the pipe at him,"You, ruffian, need to learn to respect! I will not have some high-horse youngster strutting around this theater!" She croaked at him,"Shape up, ya hear?"

Mugen growled at her, still holding his hair and hoping he wasn't bald."Yeah, whatever." _Stupid bitch._

This damn stuff had better be worth it if he had to put up with this crap.

He went back to stand beside Fuu and Jin, muttering under his breath, looking absolutely ready to kill, his fingers wandering down to his sword, just itching to draw it.

"And _you_," Wajima-san rose her eyebrow at Jin, who hadn't said a word throughout the entire inspection,"Who are you?" She demanded, thinking he, too, was nothing short of ghastly.

Jin's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly as he walked in front of the table.

"Jin." He prepared himself for what came next, whatever _that_ was.

The old woman just stared at him for a long moment, eyes wandering up and down his form, mouth muttering incoherently, fingers wrapped underneath her chin in contemplation.

She closed her eyes, voice incredulous.

"A homosexual."

And the reaction was _insane._

Aomori fainted from horror. Fuu nearly toppled over screaming "_WHAAAAAT!"_. And Mugen? He was howling up a storm, hands slapping violently at his sides, head thrown completely back, unable to stop.

"_Excuse me._" Jin's voice was almost hoarse, his eyes clamped shut so tight it was obvious he was doing everything he could to calm himself before he slaughtered her, old woman or not.

"It certaintly must be so. I've never seen a more feminine looking man." Wajima-san studied him. "Am I wrong?"

_Feminine_!

Jin went straight for his sword, gripping the handle with violent force, desperately wanting to unsheath the weapon and cut that bitch of a woman to pieces. But he restrained himself, a calming breath surging within him as he straightened his stature.

He was _not _a homosexual. He was _not_ feminine. He. was. _not._

"You are _indeed_ wrong." Jin replied, deadly calm."I am not, and never will be, a homosexual. And I respectfully request that you take back your words."

No woman, no matter how old or senile or downright insane they seemed, would get away with calling him such a thing.

And all the while the laughter continued, growing louder and getting stronger, until it stopped dead center, a loud "Oof!" sounding afterward as Mugen was elbowed in the gut, Fuu being the culprit, her fist twitching as she stared at his hunched over form.

"God, will you _shut up_ already!" She bellowed, flustered and embarassed, knowing Jin was most likely going to kill them both any minute."It wasn't even_ that _funny! Urg--I mean--It wasn't funny _at all_!"

Mugen stood up then, glaring and shouting back at her, both fighting like cats, arms swinging.

Wajima-san eyed them momentarily before focusing back on Jin who was still standing there, waiting.

She squinted at him, "Fine." Her tone was clipped and it looked as though she wasn't entirely convinced. "I apologize for my assumption."

Jin narrowed his eyes at her, accepting it, before he fell in between Mugen and Fuu, glaring at them both and just daring them to say something.

Poor Aomori was still laying in the floor.

Wajima-san stared down the three individuals on the other side of her desk, looking at each of them momentarily before picking up her pipe again.

"I am satisfied with the three of you." She said."You may work here at the theater, but be warned, there are rules to abide by and guidelines to follow, understand? Break these and you are _gone_."

They all nodded.

"Good."

Then Wajima-san preceeded to tell them everything they needed to know, like where they would sleep, what they would be doing, how much they would be earning, etc. etc. before turning around again.

She picked up three, white folders and spun back around, hurling them through the air.

Jin and Mugen and Fuu quickly caught them, eyes bewildered.

"Those are your scripts." The old woman told them, coughing."You'll need them come tomorrow morning. That's when we start rehearsals." She grunted.

"_Tomorrow_?" Fuu questioned. They sure wasted no time around here.

"Tomorrow." Wajima-san confirmed, cracking a toothy grin."See you bright and early." She cackled wickedly, only to bust out into a coughing fit directly after.

"Great." Mugen was not enthused.

Wajima-san glowered at them."Now, get out. I have work to do."

Glancing warily at Mugen and Jin, Fuu shrugged her shoulders and turned for the door, stepping over Aomori as she went.

Mugen followed, staring down at Aomori and shaking his head before he sautered through the doorway, Jin doing the same, arms folded.

As the door shut behind them and they walked away, Aomori bolted upright, her eyes searching.

"..What. What happened?" She asked, eyes dazed, only to put on a deep scowl soon after. "I fainted didn't I." She always fainted.

The old woman snorted.

"Looks like we'll have this theater up and running in no time.." Wajima-san smirked, feeling as though things were certaintly about to change.

xxxxx

**A/N:**So, their getting settled in! Wajima sure is a crafty mean old bat, isn't she? I decided to add in a couple of new characters to add to the flavor of the story, so please let me know what you think of them, ok?

This may have seemed slow going, but rest assured! In the next chapter, things are really gonna heat up. Fuu and company get their fist taste of acting and find out that it's nothing like they thought it'd be, in more ways than one. Is it too tough to handle, or will they stick it out for the cash? And what about Mugen and Aomori, will something transpire between them? Guess we'll just have to see!

And no. Before you kill me, flame me, hate me, I do **_NOT_** think Jin is gay in any way shape or form. I just thought I'd add that in there for comic relief and whatnot. So don't take it too seriously, yeah? It's just for fun.

And don't forget to review!


	3. Chapter 3

Once again, thanks so much for the reviews, everyone! They really let me know that people are actually reading as well as _enjoying_ this story! So, please keep it up!

**Symbolism on the Center Stage**

Bright and early the next morning, Mugen, Jin, and Fuu found themselves up and out of bed, just as Wajima-san had promised.

While the three were sleeping soundly in their beds, the old woman had burst into their rooms, banging her pipe vehemently against the door frame and shouting,"Rise and Shine!" with a seemingly unnatural flourish, before exiting in a fit of loud coughs and deafening cackles that echoed as she went.

In the confusion, Jin had snapped to attention, jumping up wide-eyed and at the ready, his glasses somewhat lopsided as he instinctively went for his sword, gripping it tightly and wondering just what the hell had happened before he finally understood, his head shaking back and forth at the calamity of it all.

Mugen, on the other hand, who had been sleeping on the top bunk of one of the beds, had jolted awake in an instant, eyes darting this way and that as he rolled over the side of the bed and fell gracelessly to the floor, its height apparently forgotten. He had shot up, all calm and cool-like, as if he had _meant_ to do that, and glared at Jin, just daring the samurai to say otherwise.

And when her turn had come, Fuu had retaliated, shrieking out in fright and grabbing the closet weapon available--her shoe--and chucking it through the air, the sandal flipping and spinning, end over end, before it sailed out the door, missed the target completely and landed with an audible "thunk" on the wooden walkway outside.

Yes, bright and early the next morning, Mugen, Jin, and Fuu found themselves up and out of bed, just as Wajima-san had promised, with their eyes wide, hearts pounding, and tempers in full flare.

"I. am going. to _kill her_." Mugen shouted vehemently as he wrenched open the door and stomped angrily over the threshold, his geta sandals click-clacking as he went.

Behind him, Jin sighed in annoyance, knowing _exactly_ who he was talking about and _exactly_ where this was going. As he followed after Mugen, slow in his steps and in no hurry catch up to the tirade that surely awaited him, the samurai thought it was much too early to be having fights.

The sun hadn't even come up yet.

xxxxx

Fuu was now happily sitting across from Aomori, stuffing her face with all kinds of delicious concoctions and listening intently as her female companion carried on in pleasant conversation.

They were in the theater, on stage and seperated by a table that was _covered_ in food, and she was welcome to eat as much as she liked. Everything was calm and relaxing, and Fuu had all but forgotten about the ghastly events that had transpired not moments before.

Until Mugen burst into the room, his voice echoing and booming throughout the empty theater as he jumped effortlessly onto the stage and approached his victim, eyes glaring and focusing on nothing else.

"I'd enjoy that if I were you, because it's going to be the last thing you _ever_ eat." He growled, pointing a lanky finger at the bowl of rice she was holding, partially consumed.

Fuu rolled her eyes and continued eating. "Oh, please." Like she hadn't heard _that_ line a thousand times.

"I mean it, damn it!" Mugen shouted, knocking the rice bowl out of her hand and sending it flying, rice scattering everywhere as the bowl hit the wooden floor and rolled away.

Suddenly, Fuu's eyes flamed red and she turned on Mugen with a hateful glare, rivaling his own, as they stared at one another, tempers climbing.

"I was eating that, you _jerk_!" She yelled at him, hand pointing to the wasted rice that now covered half the stage. "God, why do you always have to be so..so.._reckless_!" A vein was popping out of her forehead as she yelled this, fists clenched and voice demanding.

"Because you're too stupid to understand words!" He shot back, hand tapping his foreheard for emphasis.

Fuu's eyes went wide in an oh-no-he-_didn't_ type of way and she lunged at him with her hands, hoping to strangle the life out of him and then some.

"Why, you _little_--"

From the sidelines, Aomori covered her mouth and watched the two argue with both apprehension and intrigue as she sat at the table. Try as she might, the young woman just couldn't seem to tear her eyes away.

"Don't watch it." A voice warned from beside her and she jumped considerably, hand flying up to her heart as she snapped her head away from the fight and to the individual.

It was Jin.

"..W-why not?" She spluttered, trying to calm her frightened heart.

Where the _hell_ had he come from?

"It will make you ignorant." He said, eyes closed as he took a deep sip from his cup.

"Oh." Aomori cut a glance at Mugen and Fuu for a split second before turning back to Jin. Better safe than sorry. "By the way,..where did you come from?" She asked, positively bewildered.

The samurai simply smiled to himself, despite the now thunderous yells of his two comrades who were still going at it, full force.

"One can easily slip into a room unnoticed when the occupant's attention is otherwise engaged." He replied, picking up a bowl and filling it with rice.

Aomori smiled at him then, following his example as they both ate their breakfast, ignoring the two loudmouths that carried on just feet away.

"Pervert!" Fuu would yell.

"Bitch!" Mugen would yell back.

And this went on for a good while until finally the 'Bitch' had had enough, stomping over to the dinner table and swiping Jin's chopsticks out of his hand as he raised them to his mouth, an absolutely delicious-looking piece of shrimp held between the prongs.

"Hey!" Jin called after her, annoyed.

_He_ wanted that shrimp.

"Here!" Fuu cried, grabbbing Mugen by the chin and forcing his mouth open, stuffing the shrimp inside."That outta shut you up." She smirked, loving the wide-eyed expression that he'd taken on.

The vagrant stood there for a moment, shock written all over his features, before he began to chew the food that'd been thrust into his mouth, a bemused look appearing on his face after he swallowed.

"Damn, that stuff's good." He announced, forgetting about the fight completely and walking over to the table, plopping down and hoping to get more of whatever the heck he'd just eaten.

Seeing him relent, Fuu threw up her hands in a victorious, hallelujah-like motion and joined him at the table, holding out Jin's chopsticks to return them as she sat down.

His eyebrow twitched slightly.

Did she really think he wanted them back _now?_

"No, thank you." He refused, finding a new and perfectly suitable pair.

Shrugging, Fuu set them down on the table and picked up a bowl of soup, gulping it down with satisfaction as the herbs and spices danced down her throat.

And that's how they all sat.

Quietly eating around the table, a mix and match of conversation popping up here and there, everyone content. They had practically eaten the whole contents of the entire table except for one, single, solitary item.

_The_ shrimp piece of shrimp pieces. A golden, mouth-watering beauty that was sure to ignite ecstacy in whoever managed to obtain it first.

Suddenly, the serene picture of early morning breakfast etiquette was ripped to shreds as Mugen and Fuu both speared the prize, their chopsticks clanking together in unison.

Aomori felt that another Ignorance-in-Action moment was about to take place and so she kept her eyes clear of the opposite side of the table and instead trained them on Jin, talking about the theater and its origin, while the samurai drank his tea respectively, asking questions throughout.

Across the table, a stream of lightening passed between Mugen and Fuu as they glared at one another, the battle from before starting up again, round two.

But they played it off, coy smiles gracing their faces as they pretended to be enraptured with one another, hoping to outsmart their advesary.

"Don't you think you've had enough to eat, Fuu?" Mugen's teeth were clenched as he tried to crack a believable smile, the words flowing out of his mouth in a mock-sweetness.

"Oh, you know me, a growing girl must eat as much as she can in order to become a breathtaking beauty." Fuu countered in the same tone as her enemy, that string that held her colgate smile in place just about to snap.

Mugen let out a growl then, fed up already. "Let go of the damn shrimp." He demanded, eyes narrowed.

"No!" Fuu spat back, her chopsticks tightening their hold."Besides, you've already had a piece!"

"Only because you force-fed it into my _mouth_!" Mugen pointed out, tone incredulous as his own chopsticks sank lower into the treat.

"That was a gift to shut you up!" Fuu explained haughtily."So, let's make this a gift to me for having to put up with you." She began to pull the shrimp away.

"Let's not and say we did." Mugen snorted back, adding his own momentum and pulling in the other direction.

Fuu huffed angrily,"Just give me the shrimp, Mugen." She pulled one way.

"No!" And he pulled the other.

"Yes!" Back and forth.

"NO!" Back and forth.

"YES!" Back and forth.

"_ENOUGH_, already!" A voice boomed off the walls of the theater, echoing all throughout the building."Save that energy for rehearsal!" It cackled hoarsely, sounding annoyed but greatly amused.

Mugen and Fuu both forget about the shrimp after that, staring out into the auditorium, eyes searching, knowing exactly who'd said those words.

In the middle of the seventh row, Wajima-san sat staring at them with a contemplative look on her face, pipe sitting between her fingers, a grayish-white stream of smoke rising from the tip.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Mugen wondered, flat out.

Fuu nodded, blinking.

"She's here for rehearsal." Aomori laughed into her hand lightly."Wajima-san is going to be directing the play." She told them, picking up her tea and sipping it gingerly.

Mugen and Fuu face-faulted, "_What?"_

And they thought they'd seen the last of her.

"That's right!" Wajima-san was now in the middle of the first row."So, quit stuffing your faces and let's get the show on the road! We don't have all day!" The old woman demanded, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Sighing, Fuu and Mugen turned back to the table, readying their chopsticks in an attempt to grab that shrimp again, but when they stared down into the bowl, they noticed only one thing.

It was empty!

"_Hey!"_ they watched in absolute envy as the angelic morsel sailed through the air and into Jin's mouth, the samurai chewing slowly, savoring the taste, before he swallowed it, a pristine smile gracing his lips, and drank the last of his tea, eyes sparkling.

"Bastard." Mugen said.

xxxxx

Fifteen minutes later, the stage was spotless and ready to go. The table had been carried off, the rice cleaned from the floor, and the dishes disposed of. Everyone had been fed and taken care of and that only meant one thing.

Now, it was time to get down to business.

"We're going to do a selective reading exercise before we get into the actual script. So, if everyone would spread out, we can get started." Wajima-san said gruffly from her seat in the front row, watching as Mugen, Jin, Fuu, and Aomori all spaced out to atleast an arm's length of each other.

"Good. Now what I'm going to do is call you up, two at a time, and have you read a portion of the script, acting it out while you read the lines. Got it? Portray something--an emotion or an action--don't just stand there and read the words off the page! This exercise will help me determine your abilities and decide who will be best suited for what role." The old woman rattled on, soundly deathly serious but genuinly enthused about the idea.

"Yeah, yeah." Mugen muttered under his breath.

How hard could it be?

"Alright, Mugen." Wajima-san eyed him, pratically reading his thoughts,"Since you and your _friend_ seem to be so theatrical, why don't you two read page 86." She barked, a snide expression covering her face as she flipped to the page.

"H-hey, don't bring me into this!" Fuu protested to the woman, but Mugen was already pulling her by the wrist to the center of the stage and grumbling underneath his breath.

Following along in their scripts, Jin and Aomori both turned to page 86, only to swap a glance with one another, eyebrows slightly raised.

This was going to be interesting..

"Alright, page 86." Mugen muttered lazily as he flipped through the sheets of paper, finally landing on the designated spot and staring downward at the words.

His face grew incredulous. "You gotta be kidding me."

Fuu stared down into the words of her own script, reading and re-reading a few lines or so before she felt an unexpected blush creep up the back of her neck.

It was a love scene.

"Shy, are we?" Wajima-san asked them from her seat in the audience, a cheshire smile on her face.

She'd seen those two bicker endlessly ever since they arrived the previous day, and now that she had them in her grasp, she wanted to know if they were even capable of doing anything else.

"Hardly." Mugen threw back at her.

"Then get on with it." The old woman commanded. "Or get out."

"Fine, fine!" Fuu argued, suddenly feeling rather anxious as she stared down into the first lines of her script, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a shudder as she tried to calm herself.

Honestly, what the hell was she getting nervous about?

It was just a stupid love scene--and with Mugen no less!

She then rationalized that it was simply because she'd never acted before. That _must_ have been it. Why else was her heart racing and palms sweating at the thought of having to behave _romantically_ with Mugen?

It certaintly wasn't because she liked that oaf, no way.

Fuu simply told herself that the feeling didn't mean anything, not a thing, and that she was just anxious because she was trying something new. It had absolutely nothing to do with Mugen, and that was that.

Besides, it was just a play.

It wasn't real and it didn't mean anything.

Satisfied with that, Fuu cleared her throat and stared down at the page once more, concentrating on the words before she read them aloud, her voice calm and somber, drifting through the theater with a ghostly echo.

"We are cowards."

It was such a simple phrase--three words--but it sent a shiver down Mugen's spine and scared him half to death.

He hadn't expected her to take it so seriously, but apparently she had. You could hear it in the way the emotion swelled in her voice and penetrated through the words.

It was like she was another person.

Watching her, Mugen crossed the stage and looked down at his own script, the single, solitary word flowing from his mouth in a haunting question, as he stood just inches away from her, eyes almost pleading.

"Why?"

Fuu had looked up at him then, their eyes locking together for a split second, before she turned her back to him, head turning to the side as she eyed the floor stoically, appearing deep in thought.

But mentally, her brain was reeling.

She hadn't expected him to take it so seriously, either, but apparently_ he _had. The way he had looked at her, with his eyes pleading, begging, almost as if he himself were searching for understanding, had sent a chill down her spine and scared _her_ half to death.

It was like he was looking _through_ her, seeing the innermost parts of her soul.

And that was a very unsettling feeling.

Fuu looked at her script again, turning slightly at an angle as she continued to stare at the floor.

"Because we betray our feelings." It came out sounding sorrowful, almost ashamed.

A hand came up and brushed her jaw then, turning her face slowly so that she was staring upward, her eyes clashing with dark brown.

And Fuu absolutely forgot to breath.

"And what are our feelings?" Mugen's face was several inches away from hers, his voice deep and throaty, his hand still resting delicately on the side of her face, a finger idly running up and down the length of her jawline.

Fuu tried to speak out the next words, but they died heavily in her throat. She couldn't handle him being so close to her, speaking to her in such a uncharacteristic way, and acting like _that._

A long silence passed betweem them before Mugen sighed in irritation, breaking the spell and withdrawing his hand, his voice rough and harsh as he glared daggers at the woman in the front row and slammed the script shut.

"Is that good enough for you, because that's the best you're going to get with this shit." He growled at her before walking off, seemingly indifferent and back to normal.

"Well, you certaintly had _me_ fooled." Wajima-san admitted loudly, voice appreciative as she fanned her face, blush rising.

Fuu could still feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him stalk away through the left-side door and out of sight.

_That makes two of us.._

xxxxx

**Author's Note:** So, there you have it! Chapter three. What did you think? Should I stop right now and preserve my dignity because it sucks..or continue on with the next part?

_Please,_ review and let me know!


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